


Young Informants

by glow_in_the_dark



Series: Tumblr Fic Requests [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alley Sex, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, Hand Jobs, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glow_in_the_dark/pseuds/glow_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To celebrate my first Tumblr milestone, 25 followers, I said I'd be taking fic requests and bluespartan114 asked for this:<br/>"What about John and Sherlock going undercover in a club and Sherlock's so turned on watching John dance that he drags him outside and takes him up against the wall?"</p>
<p>So I did just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Informants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluespartan114](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluespartan114/gifts).



“What kind of informant hangs around in clubs like this?!” John tried yelling over the thumping bass of the club, scantily clad bodies brushing past him.

“Young ones!” Sherlock yelled back. Sherlock was well aware that John and himself stuck out a bit in a club like this, clearly the oldest here. They were attracting quite a lot of attention too, but not the bad kind of attention. Oh no. Women and men alike were eyeing them up like pieces of meat, Sherlock smirking for the third time when John let out a surprised squawk as a woman who passed by pinched his bum.

“And why the hell do we have to be dressed like this?!” 

John was wearing a tight black t-shirt with a crew-neck. The thin cotton clung to his frame intensely, showing off years of arming training and recent laps around London tackling down suspects. Sherlock would be lying if he said the sight of cotton covered muscles was not distracting in the slightest. It would seem that John wore jumpers that made him look shapeless for the safety of the public. And to save his arse from being pinched. Speaking of pinched arses, the jeans John wore were sinfully tight. The grey denim clung desperately to the strong muscles of his thighs and curve of his buttocks. No wonder women wanted to get their hands on that ass, it was god-like.

Sherlock himself was wearing a pair of leather pants that seemed to be acting more like a second skin than trousers. He had on knee high red chucks and a red v-neck t-shirt, and the way his hair was styled and the touch of eyeliner he had on suggested he wasn’t entirely straight. Sherlock didn’t really like dressing n disguise like this, but he had no idea what his informant looked like, so they had told him what to wear so they could find him. When John had first come down the stairs and seen what Sherlock was wearing he had done that thing with his lips when he tries really hard not to smile before cracking up laughing. Sherlock had flipped him the bird before smugly bending over to tie up his never ending laces. That had promptly shut John up.

“I’ve told you already, stop making me repeat myself!”

“I know why you have to be dressed like that, but why do I have to-” John squeaked this time when a lady pinched him on the bum, levelling a glare on Sherlock. “You so owe me for this one!” 

Sherlock lent in close, miming the word _‘later’_ onto John’s cheek. 

Smirking widely, Sherlock lead them both out onto the dance floor. “Might as well blend in while we wait!” 

John gave Sherlock the finger before working his way through the crowd to get closer to the centre of the dance floor. He knew Sherlock was following closely behind him, each man having to gently force themselves through the sea of moving bodies.

He hadn’t done this in years. Little known fact about John; he was an amazing dancer. Not the kind of dancing that was all choreographed, he was rubbish at that. But being able to move your body in time with the music, chest rising and falling with the tempo, hips moving with the beat, he was really good at that. He’d forgotten what it felt like to have the bass so loud you could feel it inside you. The moment he had got near the centre of the club, John reached behind him and pulled Sherlock into the small space he had found. This meant that the lanky detective was all but pressed against him, and John smirked as he gave them a bit more room, starting to sway in time with the music. It was a bit different from the stuff that was played back in his day. The bass was louder for one, but it mainly seemed to be modified current songs. He picked out Katy Perry, Justin Timberlake and that Hannah Montana chick. 

Glancing over at Sherlock made him smile. The man clearly never danced in his youth, and it showed clearly right now. He was looking around the club and trying to catalogue how the youth of the current generation danced, applying the newly acquired data as he gathered it. It looked obscenely slutty. Obscenely. His hips were rolling, spine curved at an over-exaggerated angle, chest pushed forth. He was obviously getting his data from intoxicated females.

Reaching forward, John took hold of Sherlock’s wrist to get the man’s attention. Using his other hand, he pointed his index and middle finger at his eyes, before turning them to Sherlock’s and back to his own again in a _‘watch me’_ motion. John began dancing again, trying his best not to flush at having Sherlock’s intense gaze focused solely on him, raking up and down his body as he collected data.

Sherlock was a quick learner, he’d give him that.

His body moved and rolled, mimicking John’s own. Every time he moved in a new direction, changing the pace he rolled his hips, Sherlock was only a fraction of a second behind. They were a mirrored pair. And that was just fucking hot.

Closing his eyes so he wouldn’t get distracted, John continued dancing, letting the vibrations of the bass fill him entirely, feeling his heart change pace to keep with the tempo. He opened his eyes briefly and saw a small and even thinner man than Sherlock, hand the detective a folded piece of paper before disappearing into the crowd once more. The informant.

Sherlock fixed John with the _‘I’ve got what I can for let’s go now’_ look.

John frowned and crowded close to Sherlock so he could be heard over the music. “Can we stay for a bit?!”

Sherlock shook his head in a negative.

John mouthed a _‘please’_. 

Before Sherlock could say anything else, John turned around, pressing his body back against Sherlock’s chest. He took Sherlock’s hands and placed them on his hips, swaying his ass back into Sherlock’s crotch as he rolled with the music.

It took all of six seconds for Sherlock to decide that dancing here with John, now, was more important that finding a con-man. He moved his hips in time with John’s, grinding back against that denim clad arse vowing to mention that John was a manipulative-son-of-a-bitch and some point in the future. 

John had forgotten what it was like to dance with somebody else. The sensual move of two bodies pressed together. Mind you, this was the first time he had ever danced with a bloke, but the chemistry was still mostly the same. And Sherlock and John had done _a lot_ more than dancing, so it was fine. But John had completely miscalculated how fucking fantastic it would be to dance with a hard, warm body pressed up behind him. Emphasis on the _hard_. His swaying hips were having quite the effect on his consulting detective. Obviously. John leant his head back on Sherlock's right shoulder and smiled when Sherlock instantly took the bait and nuzzled his face against the junction of his left shoulder. He groaned and began rocking his hips back harder into Sherlock's crotch, feeling himself harden in his jeans as Sherlock’s hands went from clutching at his hips to wrapped fully around his waist. John groaned then gasped in shock as one of Sherlock’s hands slipped a little lower and cupped his crotch through his tight jeans. The gasp turned into a growl as John turned around in Sherlock’s arms and pulled the taller man down into a rough kiss.

It was more bite than anything, Sherlock nipping into John’s mouth, along his bottom lip, the stubble at his jaw. He’d lure John’s tongue into his own mouth before biting down firmly on the muscle, John tuck like that until Sherlock let him go. Sherlock grabbed two handfuls of John’s toned arse, pulling their crotches together. John groaned into his mouth before he started rolling his hips into Sherlock’s in time with the music. The man could still fucking _dance_ at a time like this when Sherlock was struggling to rub two brain cells together. 

And that was all Sherlock could take. 

He grabbed John’s wrist in a firm grip and began to pull his army doctor out from the dance floor and out of the club. John had yanked his arm out of Sherlock’s grip so he could get their coats, thrusting Sherlock’s bellstaff at him as he pulled his own thick puffer jacket on. Once their coats were on, Sherlock pulled John into the lapels of his coat, forcing his tongue between John’s lips. Well, he says forcing, but John’s groan and eager hands slipping around his waist suggested that the man was a little more than keen right now.

Speaking of keen, there was no way Sherlock was going to be able to wait until they returned to their flat, his erection was pressing insistently against the zip of his leather pants. 

As John surfaced for air pulling the neck line of his red shirt down enough to expose a collar bone to suck a hickey into, Sherlock scanned the surrounding area looking for a suitable area to become a little more intimate in. The back alley around the back of the club was a little too well travelled with couples looking for a similar area to make out in. But the alley across the street behind a closed Chinese restaurant would be more than adequate. 

Sherlock pulled John across the road, Backing him up against any flat surface he could find on the way to kiss the man deeply and rub their aching arousals together. It was rushed and messy and spontaneous and utterly perfect. 

Once safely out of the eyes of the public, Sherlock all but threw John against the hard brick wall of the restaurant, the aggressive action doing nothing but inflating John’s arousal more. 

John pulled Sherlock down into a bruising kiss, alternating between hard presses of lips, gentle nips, grazing bites, and soothing tongues. It was slick and just this side of painful and when Sherlock pressed their groins together once more, John shuddered into the kisses at how hard they both were. “Sherlock.”

“John.”

Pale hands pulled at the denim fastenings of John’s jeans as tan ones yanked the zip down of Sherlock’s all-encasing leather pants.

John groaned loudly once their bare cocks touched one another. Sherlock clamped a hand over his mouth to silence the tail end of the moan, the other moving down to grip their erections together. Sherlock hissed a groan, John hot and hard in his hand and against his own desperate cock. He looked up with mild surprise when something wet was laving at his palm over John’s mou… John was licking his palm. Right, two could play this game. Sherlock tightened his grip in them both and moved his hand up and down in a quick pace. Best not draw this out too long. Leaning forward until his lips were brushing the shell of John’s ear, Sherlock used his almighty trump card that was always sure to push John towards the edge. He swore. “ _Fuck_ , John.” The effect was instantaneous.

John groaned, pushing his hips forward into Sherlock's hand. Sherlock never swore. Never. So the times he did swear sounded absolutely _filthy_. Doubly so when he swore during sex. The thrill of being caught surrounded John, small sounds slipping past his defences but being blocked by Sherlock's hand covering his mouth.

Their combined precum slicked the quick movements of Sherlock’s hand, lubrication for a brutal pace. John was the first to orgasm, his pelvis arching forward into Sherlock’s. The near whine he made when he came had Sherlock nosing the hair just behind John’s ear as he followed quickly after.

\-------------------------

The clean up was quick, Sherlock producing a tissue from god-knows-where, and wiping them clean as best he could given their current location. 

The moment they had put themselves back together again Sherlock attacked John’s mouth, teeth clacking as he possessively kissed his shorter partner. “The hell was that for?” John asked after he took a much needed breath.

“You are _forbidden_ from dancing in public _ever_ again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ole bluespartan114 was probably looking for sex, I hope she doesn't mind just handjobs instead :)
> 
> I'll take a few more fic requests, so if you'd like, go to me tumbles and ask away!!! http://www.tumblr.com/blog/glow-dark-art email me if the askbox is still playing hide and seek.


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